


Long Day

by callay



Category: Kings (TV 2009)
Genre: Background Characters Deserve Love Too, Bodyguard, Drunk Sex, Episode 1x06, Episode Tag, Judgement Day, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Judgement Day, a drunk, frustrated Jack invites his bodyguard Stuart back to his apartment. Stuart knows he shouldn't follow, but does anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently watching Kings and felt compelled to write this after Jack and Stuart went home together at the end of 1x06 "Judgement Day".
> 
> It's just for fun. If later episodes ruin it for some reason, don't tell me, I'll find out soon enough! :)
> 
> Warning for a totally inappropriate relationship between bodyguard and bodyguardee, and sex while one party is drunk.

The street is empty and quiet, and Stuart and Jack are alone outside Jack’s building.

“It’s the end of my shift, sir,” Stuart tells Jack. Jack lowers the flask he’s been drinking from, and Stuart is surprised to see Jack’s eyes shining like he’s on the verge of tears. Something must have gone wrong today.

“Long day after watching you,” Stuart offers, smiling.

Jack just raises his eyebrows. “Doesn’t have to be over,” he says, tone purposefully neutral. Jack’s eyes, when he looks up at Stuart, are guarded and challenging at once. “It’s good to know I have someone I can trust.”

When Stuart grasps the implied invitation, it’s like an electric shock. He’s seen his share of Jack’s nighttime meetings, is well aware of his true preferences, but he would never expect to be involved himself.

His first reaction is pure base excitement at the prospect, but he quickly tamps that down, keeps his face blank. His mind is buzzing, thrilled and nervous at once, and he can only swallow, trying and failing to formulate a proper response.

Jack gives him one last glance, still studiedly casual, and then turns away to head towards the door. Stuart hesitates, heart pounding. Jack obviously expects him to follow, and Stuart already knows he’s going to. But he looks around first – nobody in sight, of course – and locks the car before he does.

They take the elevator up to the penthouse. Jack leans against the wall opposite Stuart and stares at him, lips pressed together, eyes bright. “What should we do tonight, Stu?” he asks, lightly, as if they might just catch some TV.

Stuart swallows again, keeping his expression neutral only by force of training. There’s a part of him that’s sure he’s in over his head, wants to say that Jack’s going to bed and he’s going home. And there’s another part of him, equally jittery but for different reasons, that’s keeps coming up with ideas for what to do. Ideas that feel treasonous to even think, but that send sharp shocks of desire through him.

“That’s up to you, sir,” he manages finally.

Jack smirks at that. “That’s a good boy, Stu.” Still with the same casualness, except that Stuart’s starting to see through it now. To see the way Jack keeps licking his lips, the way his eyes keep darting to Stuart’s face, then down his body, then away. The conscious way Jack, who’s posed for cameras his entire life, is leaning against the elevator wall: coat falling away from his body, hips forward, legs just a little spread.

It hits Stuart like a blow, how badly he wants Jack. He wants everything: the prince, so beautiful and so carefully careless, but also the prickly, lonely boy underneath.

He closes his eyes at the thought, ashamed. _You’re getting ahead of yourself_ , he tells himself. _The only thing you should want to do is make sure he gets to bed safe._

But thinking that doesn’t stop the buzz of arousal in his veins, the way his body strains towards Jack. He can’t remember the last time they touched, if they’ve ever touched, and he desperately wants to.

When he opens his eyes, Jack is watching him, eyes challenging.

And then the elevator doors open, and Stuart follows Jack into the apartment.

Stuart closes the door behind him. It shuts with a solid click and for some reason it feels significant, like he and Jack are officially hidden away from the world. Stuart turns around, heart in his throat.

Jack’s not there. He’s walking away, towards the stairs, shedding clothes as he goes. He takes off layers as he heads upstairs, shoes and coat and jacket and tie.

Stuart leaves his coat and shoes by the door but doesn’t dare strip further. He’s been in life-or-death situations that didn’t make him this nervous. And certainly never this uncertain.

But at the moment, his duty and his heart are both telling him to follow Jack, so he does.

As soon as he steps into the bedroom, Jack is on him, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and leaning in close. There’s a moment where Jack hesitates, eyes staring into Stuart’s. If he’s looking for something, Stuart can’t help him – he can’t even _breathe_ , much less do or say anything. But then the moment is gone and Jack kisses him.

Jack kisses hard and sloppy, tongue wriggling into Stuart’s mouth, wet and tasting of whiskey. His cool façade from earlier seems to be gone. He’s just clinging onto Stuart, pressing his body up against him, kissing him hungrily.

For all Stuart’s quick reflexes, it takes an agonizingly long time to bring himself to push Jack away. But some stupid, rational part of his brain says he has to, so he takes Jack by the shoulders and pulls him away.

“You’re drunk, sir, you should go to bed,” he says in as neutral a tone as he can manage.

“Come with me, then,” says Jack. He says it with a flirtatious grin, but Stuart can see the need under the confidence. Jack keeps fidgeting under Stuart’s hands, eyes wide and dark, face flushed. He’s gorgeous, thinks Stuart, looking at Jack’s mouth, his perfect cupid’s-bow lips, wet from kissing.

Stuart feels frozen, desperately undecided. He knows he could lose his job over this, his hope of another, his life in the city. But much more important than that is Jack. He can’t let Jack do something he’ll regret in the morning. He’s supposed to _protect_ Jack –

“You’re supposed to take care of me, right?” Jack says quietly, looking up at him. “So take care of me. I _need_ you, Stu.” He says it with a breathy whine to his voice, and it shouldn’t work on Stuart, but it does.

When it comes down to it, Jack is beautiful and brash and vulnerable and Stuart is weak.

Stuart’s grip on Jack’s shoulders loosens, and Jack pushes closer right away, presses himself to Stuart, and Stuart can’t help holding him close. This time, when they kiss, Stuart kisses back wholeheartedly, tasting Jack’s mouth, tangling their tongues together. It’s a messy kiss, wet and sloppy, and Stuart doesn’t know if this is normal for Jack, or if it’s because Jack’s drunk, or if Jack is being wanton for him on purpose, opening his mouth wide and moaning when Stuart pushes his tongue into it.

Stuart rubs his hands over Jack’s back, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt, and then moves them lower. He runs his hands over Jack’s ass, squeezes it, hitches Jack’s body even closer. Jack shudders at that and grinds against him. Stuart meets him, thrilling at the feel of his cock rubbing against Jack’s hip. He’s achingly hard, has been since the elevator.

Jack breaks the kiss with a gasp, tilts his head to nuzzle under Stuart’s jaw, to bite and lick at his neck. And Stuart feels drunk himself, overwhelmed by the feeling of Jack’s mouth on him, Jack’s body against his, Jack’s hands wandering over his chest, pulling at his tie and trying to unbutton his shirt.

Jack kisses his way up Stuart’s jaw to his ear, breathes, “Fuck me,” into it.

Stuart has to close his eyes at the words, the feeling of Jack’s warm breath in his ear, the mental image.

He feels Jack step away from him, but then Jack’s pulling him by the shirt and they both move together, back towards the bed. Jack falls onto it first, and he squirms back to lie on the pillow, hands already working with desperate clumsiness at his fly.

Stuart doesn’t want to wait, climbs onto the bed to kiss Jack before Jack even finishes pushing off his pants. Jack kisses back eagerly, body rolling against the bed, trying to arch up to meet Stuart, who’s kneeling over him.

Heart pounding, Stuart reaches down with one hand and pulls Jack’s cock out of his boxers. Jack bucks under him, moans into his mouth. Stuart starts stroking. He keeps a slow steady rhythm, but he’s almost thrown off by Jack wriggling his hips in uneven counterpoint. It seems to be working for Jack, though, judging by the helpless noises he keeps making.

Stuart shifts his weight, moves to support himself on his elbow, body getting closer to Jack’s – but for now, he doesn’t let himself touch Jack, not anywhere but his hand on Jack’s cock and his mouth over Jack’s. This is intoxicating enough.

When Stuart moves, Jack takes the opportunity to break the kiss, turning his head to the side. “You’re supposed to fuck me,” he pants, hips still pushing up into Stuart’s grip.

Stuart doesn’t answer, just tries to kiss Jack again, but Jack turns his head further away and keeps talking, voice low and desperate. “I know you want to, come on, I’m ordering you to, I – I _need_ you to –“

Stuart moves his hand on the pillow to grab Jack’s hair and pulls hard enough to turn Jack’s face back to his. Jack shuts up, staring wide-eyed up at him.

And Stuart presses his mouth to Jack’s, hard, keeps one hand tugging at his hair and the other on his cock. He speeds up, swallowing Jack’s gasps, feeling Jack’s fingers twist helplessly in his shirt. Stuart is rocking back and forth himself, hips thrusting into the air, but he forces himself to keep a steady rhythm on Jack’s cock. 

Jack seems to be close, hips rolling at a frantic pace, trying to breathe and moan and kiss Stuart all at the same time. Before long his body shudders and Stuart sits back to watch his face as he comes, biting hard on his bottom lip, eyes squeezed closed, chin trembling.

Finally Jack’s body relaxes and he opens his eyes. His eyes are dark and wet but his mouth curves into a grin. “Thanks, Stu,” he says, voice almost steady. “Gonna fuck me now?”

Stuart swallows, looking down at Jack splayed out on the bed, pants around his thighs, shirt rucked up and come spattered on his stomach. Stuart’s whole body is aching with need and he desperately wants to say yes.

But instead he says, “Let me get you a towel to clean up,” glancing at the mess on Jack’s stomach.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Sure, if you want.”

So Stuart gets to his feet and walks to the bathroom, trying to ignore the way his body is still buzzing with arousal.

He looks at himself in the mirror as he wets a washcloth. He looks almost the same as normal. Maybe his lips look a little red, his eyes a little dark. He doesn’t think he looks like the kind of person who gets to screw the prince. But then, who would?

He takes a deep breath. He can already feel his decision in the pound of his heart, the thrill in his veins.

Stuart walks out to the bedroom, warm washcloth in hand.

And Jack is asleep.

He’s in the same position Stuart left him in, but his eyes are closed and he’s breathing slowly through parted lips. Surprisingly, Stuart feels a rush of relief. This is what he wanted, to help Jack but to get him to bed, to rest. This is what Jack needs.

As to the frustrated ache of his cock, he collapses onto the bench at the foot of the bed and unzips. He strokes himself quickly, efficiently, closing his eyes and letting his fantasies have free reign for once. It doesn’t take long for him to come into a tissue, body tense, imagining Jack bright-eyed under him.

He cleans himself up, then Jack, who’s breathing deeply now and doesn’t even stir. Stuart pulls a blanket over him and looks down one more time at his face. Jack looks relaxed in sleep the way he never does in real life, almost innocent, and Stuart feels a sudden staggering swell of protectiveness.

He turns away before he can complicate things even more for himself. He doesn’t know what Jack will think about this in the morning, if he remembers it at all, but that’s a problem for the morning. For the moment, it’s been a long day, and Stuart needs to get to bed himself.


End file.
